I Want to Believe

Mulder:  I hear a voice in my head telling me everything will be  all

         right.  

Doctor:  Do you believe what the voice is saying?

Mulder:  I want to believe.

X-Files, Fallen Angel

Remember the 90’s? Pluto was still a planet.  That flannel I had been wearing since birth was suddenly cool.  And the X-Files taught us that we should all be a whole lot more paranoid than we are.  This dream is still alive somewhere, I am told.  But I digress.

Our yogic practice, like The X-Files, is a quest to find truth.

First we must have the desire to look: I want to believe that there is something behind the veil, a singularity from whence the compounds come, knowledge which remains unchangeable regardless of point of view. Then we search, because, we reason, “The Truth is out there.”

We question and probe. We look for teachers who have more knowledge than we do.  We discover sparks of truth and we discover that that those who we thought knew much are charlatans.  

Unlike the X-Files, our yogic practice eventually leads us to one universal understanding:

The Truth is most definitely NOT out there.

It is in here.

Krishna tells us “[Self-realization] is the kingly science, the kingly secret…realizable by direct intuitional knowledge [italics mine]…” (Bhagavad Gita IX.2 Sivananda tr.)

We carry the ultimate goal and understanding within ourselves.  Our practice is to learn to discriminate between what is truth and what is not truth.

Real Truth must be indivisible, unchanging.  If a thing changes, it cannot be true.  This is illustrated in The Ramayana over and over again: the word of the Lord, the Leader, the Parent all must be true, as they are direct extensions of Truth.  A promise made must be kept, and action promised must come to pass, etc.

We parents see this all the time.  Our kids learn by challenging us.  When we keep our word (finish ALL your dinner then you can have candy), the child will learn.  Over time.  Much time.  But show ONE discrepancy, the whole line of reasoning had been proven false.

So it must be with our yogic practice.  We students are children.  It is our duty to question the teacher, the teachings over and over again.  By our own experience, we learn to discriminate between Truth and not Truth, what is Real and what is Unreal.  If something is off ONCE, it cannot be truth.

We do need some help along the way to develop this level of discrimination, but remember, NO ONE can do it for you.  All gurus are mirrors.  They don’t give you new information. They can’t grant enlightenment with a wave of the hand. They only reflect what is already there.  David Life writes “The guru is no one person, the guru is a force.  A force which is operating all around us and in us.  It is up to us whether we are open to what it is trying to teach us.”

We don’t need external sources, to wait for the right teacher to come along, nor to travel far and wide spending gobs and gobs of money to sit at the foot of a sage.  The best teacher is with us right here, right now.

There is a verse from one of the oldest works known to mankind that students have been chanting for 6000 years (or millions depending on whose calendar you use) which sums up our quest:

Asato ma sat gamaya

Tamaso ma jyotir gamaya

Mrityor-ma amritham gamaya

Lead me from the unreal to the real,

Lead me from darkness into light,

Lead me from death to immortality

~Brihadaranyaka Upanishad 1.3.28

We know right where Truth is.  That is easy.  Developing the discrimination to distinguish Truth from Untruth, actually accepting Truth for Truth, and seeing Truth in all, well that’s a bit harder.

We’ll get there.

I want to believe.

Attack of the Inversions!!!!!

“Here’s a little story all about how my life got flipped turned upside down…”

~Will Smith “The Fresh Prince of Bel Air”

Not my story, exactly, but a way to help you write your own story.

ATTACK OF THE INVERSIONS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Saturday April 21^st ¨ 2-4 PM ¨ Hudson River Yoga, Poughkeepsie

The physical benefits of inversions are well documented—they help the heart by allowing gravity to assist with the return of venous blood from the bottom 2/3 of our body, they massage the internal organs by forcing the muscles to hold them in place differently than when standing upright, concentration is increased by forcing us to pay attention to what we are doing to maintain balance, etc, etc.

The benefits do not end there.

Interestingly enough, it is only when we are upside down that we can see things as they actually are.  Go get a metal spoon.  Do it now, I’ll wait.

Hold the spoon at arm’s length and look at the image.  Upside down.  The back of our eye is the same concave shape.  Images we see appear on the “screen” of our optic nerve upside down.  Our brains then process and reverse the image. This is why babies look at the world with questioning expressions—their brains are wiring to rectify the difference between the world they see (upside down) and the world they feel (right side up).

In the handful of asanas described in The Hatha Yoga Pradipika, no inversions are given.  The only inversion mentioned is not considered an asana, but a mudra, an energetic directional (quick lesson—asanas build energy, mudras direct energy into specific places, usually up the shushumna nadi, and bandhas act like valves to keep the energy from escaping).

The mudra is called viparita karini, “inverted lake.”  This in not “leg’s up the wall” as Yoga Journal and most every yoga teacher I have met would have us believe.  The position described is more similar to shoulderstand—chin into chest, weight across shoulders, feet in the air. 

The purpose for this pose, which extends to other inversion which grew out of this pose, is this:  The nectar of life is produced in the “moon”—the medulla oblongata—and over times drips down the throat into the “sun”—the solar plexus—where it is burnt away.  When the nectar runs out, well, like Dorothy and the hourglass in the Wicked Witch of the West’s tower, your time is up.  Inverting (and bending the neck) prevents the nectar from being consumed, thereby increasing life.

Staying with the Pradipika, we also find that the overall purpose of Hatha Yoga is to obtain Raja Yoga.  Hatha Yoga achieves this by concentrating energy within the body, clearing the pathways for this energy to move in the body, then sending that energy from the base center to the highest center.  Then we can meditate and achieve Samadhi.  This movement of energy takes the normal upward flowing energy (prana vayu) and combines it with the normal downward flowing energy (apana vayu) in samana vayu (moving in the center, think solar plexus/digestive organs).  That energy is then sent up the shushumna nadi (central energy channel) from the lowest point (base of the spine) to highest (crown of the head). Easy to see where reversing our orientation is space facilitates this process.

A very long way of saying that we will be doing more than showing off how strong we are and how well we can balance. 

Actually we will do neither of those things.  I don’t particularly care if you hit any of the final expressions of the poses.  The great thing about inversions is that you can reap all of the benefits of the poses while you learn them in stages. 

We will warm up.  We will learn how to fall.  We will build.  We will learn how we approach difficult things. We will find places for you to work.

We will do this in the center of the room. 

All of them: shoulderstand, headstand, handstand, and forearm balance, their prep and derivations will be done in the middle of the room.  Using the wall is like having someone else chew your food or write your resume. You need to be the one doing the practice, not the wall, and the earlier you begin learning to invert under your own power, the quicker you will get there.

Again, this is not a contest to see who can go the furthest.

It is an opportunity to safely explore, think about, and grow your practice, and to gain benefits beyond the physical.

And it’s good fun!

I may even tell you the story—not “How I became the Fresh Prince of Bel Air,” but of the importance inversions played in establishing and solidifying my practice. 

W.W.H.D? Hanuman Jayanti 2012

Artist Sanjay  Patel

Friday, April 6 2012 is the celebration of the birth of Hanuman: the white monkey, the breath of Rama, the son of the wind, the avatar of Shiva, the living embodiment of the Ramnam, the selfless servant, the ideal devotee.

As I wrote last week, I am not a Hindu, but the archetypes sit well with me.  Like Rama, we find in Hanuman examples of how to lead a righteous life—“righteous” meaning doing what is correct.

Perhaps I am drawn to Hanuman because he is the embodiment of a level of faith I do not have, he is action, whereas I am prone to worry, which leads to inaction.  Maybe I just like flying monkeys.

In Hanuman, we see the ultimate in devotion, and ideal, and we also find something a little closer perhaps to our own experiences.  The story goes that when Hanuman was young, he was a good little monkey and always very curious.  He came upon a group of forest sages doing their worship, and he decided to have a little fun with them—disrupting their very serious business. Now, the sages had to punish the little monkey, after all, he did wrong.  But they faced a quandary.  How do you punish a divine being? Not only a divine being but an incarnation of the very God they were worshiping?  They settled on a medium-sized (as these things go) curse:  Hanuman was to forget all of his divine powers until someone reminded him.

Throughout the Ramayana, Hanuman does many impossible deeds, once he is reminded of his powers.  The thing is, he had them all along.  From the Yogic point of view, we are all in this very predicament. We carry within us, no, we are a direct extension of the Divine (or Truth, or Singularity, or whatever fits for you), we have only forgotten our true nature.  So we have our yogic practices designed to (over time, lots and lots of time) silence the noise of the mind so that we can actually realize this.

There is a song/prayer dedicated to Hanuman called The Hanuman Chalisa (40 verses of Hanuman) written by Tulsidas in the mid-1500’s.  We sing or chant this song to remind Hanuman of his abilities.  To be clear, Hanuman does not want praise.  In The Ramayana when he lept 800 miles across the ocean and stood before the demon king, he never said “Look what I have done!” He said “I am the servant of Rama.”  When Rama asked how he was able to do the impossible, he replied “By the power of your name alone.” (see Hindu Fasts and Festivals by Swami Sivananda).  Hanuman is not pleased to hear his name, he is happy when he hears rama

The purpose of the song is so that he will always remember what he can do in service.  If even a divine being needs this much reminding, imagine the task ahead of us puny humans to realize the same thing. But if Hanuman can do it, so can we.  The Chalisa becomes a tool for us as well, reminding us of our capabilities.  To learn it and to say it is an act practice and faith.  More accurately, it learns you, according to your faith and practice.

My favorite scene from The Ramayana goes something like this (liberally re-telling from William Buck’s version):

When it was nearing time for Rama to die, he assembled the people to say farewell.  He gave Hanuman a gift, a priceless bracelet beset with gems, made of gold.  Hanuman took the bracelet and immediately began tearing it apart, pulling the gems out with his teeth.

Rama said “Monkey, why must you be so difficult at a time like this?”

“My Lord,” replied Hanuman, “this is worthless.  It does not even bear your name.”

To which Vibishana, the good demon, replied: “Then why don’t you just destroy your body? Is it not also worthless.”

Hanuman tore open his chest.  Inscribed on every bone, muscle, cell of his body was:

rama

Rama held his hands over the wound and it was healed. 

“Hanuman, you will live as long as my name is remembered on this Earth.  You are to be worshiped before me.”

So often it seems like such a long way to travel to find this level of faith, this connection with the Divine (Truth, etc.).  But it is right here.  Hanuman didn’t write the Ramnam on his cells, it was always there, waiting for him to remember.

So, what would Hanuman do?

He would say “Jai Ram!” and make the impossible possible.

rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama

rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama

rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama

rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama

rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama

rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama rama